


dizzy from all this spinning

by cinderlily



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Car Accidents, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, everything is okay though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikkel and Oliver had taken separate cars to the rink, an infrequent occurrence but not rare enough for it to be weird. Even though Oliver had woken him up, he’d fallen back to sleep while Oliver showered and Oliver had to be there for a meeting with the coaches. Mikkel wasn’t much for driving, but he had his license and a car. </p>
<p>He was driving down the 101 when out of the corner of his eyes he caught sight of a bright red car merging across the lanes like they owned the highway. He was just slowing down when suddenly he heard the crunch followed by glass and spinning. </p>
<p>The last thing he could remember was a sudden puff of white and a horrible smell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dizzy from all this spinning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sly_fck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sly_fck/gifts), [freetodream5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freetodream5/gifts), [saxifandomck (saxihighlandck)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=saxifandomck+%28saxihighlandck%29).



Mikkel and Oliver had taken separate cars to the rink, an infrequent occurrence but not rare enough for it to be weird. Even though Oliver had woken him up, he’d fallen back to sleep while Oliver showered and Oliver had to be there for a meeting with the coaches. Mikkel wasn’t much for driving, but he had his license and a car. 

He was driving down the 101 when out of the corner of his eyes he caught sight of a bright red car merging across the lanes like they owned the highway. He was just slowing down when suddenly he heard the crunch followed by glass and spinning. 

The last thing he could remember was a sudden puff of white and a horrible smell. 

*

Mikkel couldn’t keep his eyes open. It wasn’t that he was tired, though that did factor in with the medication he was on, but because the fluorescent light above him felt a lot like beam of pure fire sunlight. They’d put a towel on his forehead, to keep him cool but he moved it down to just cover his eyes. 

That being said, he didn’t need to see to know when Oliver entered the room. Didn’t need to look up or look down there. He knew before Oliver picked up the chair to put next to him or even before he spoke. It was clear to him in the way that there was no knock, like a doctor, no polite cough or even the click of the door. Instead everything was done with the most gentle movements as possible. And for all of his gravitas, his goofball nature and the tricks he’d played on teammates and interviews… that was Oliver. Gentle and considerate to a fault. 

“Meeks?” he whispered, taking Mikkel’s hand into his. 

Mikkel’s voice sounded rough and he didn’t take the mask off his eyes. “O.”

“We got to stop meeting like this.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh, causing the tight band across his chest to hurt. He winced. “Ow, stop fucker.”

A hand landed on his forehead and Oliver’s thumb played with his hair, lying flat against his forehead. For what felt like the first time in hours he felt comforted, leaned a little into the touch even if it did make his neck protest a bit. 

“Any news?” 

“They took X-rays,” he said, mimicking Oliver’s soft tone. “No broken bones. Looking into internal bleeding because of my spleen. Got some good meds.” 

Oliver made a humming noise of listening. “Why are you wearing a wet cloth on your eyes?” 

“Lights are attacking me.” 

“Must be the really good drugs, Meeks.” 

Mikkel sighed. “Just metaphorically, O. Migraine.” 

He moved the towel a little and blinked furiously at the light, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them ever so slowly until he could get Oliver into his eye line. Though he’d been the one in the car wreck, he saw the toll all over his partner’s face. Anxiety led to the creased corners of his eyes, his bottom lip caught in between his teeth. 

He forced a smile on his face. “I’m here.” 

“You almost were not,” Oliver’s voice was tight. “You did not see your car, Mikkel.”

“I was a little busy,” he tried for levity but saw the look on Oliver’s face and stopped again. “I can’t control other people’s driving.” 

Oliver relaxed slightly and nodded his head. “Which is why I’m driving. Forever.”

“No complaints here.” He returned the towel over his eyes and Oliver took up rubbing his forehead with his thumb. 

A soft knock on his door felt kind of like a foghorn to his ears but he didn’t react. Moving would mean feeling the pain in his neck and possibly dissuading Oliver from rubbing his head. 

“Hey Mr. Boedker,” the doctor from earlier’s voice came through. “How you doing?” 

“His head still hurts,” Oliver answered for him. “Shouldn’t the painkiller stop that?” 

He heard the doctor click a pen. “Yes, it should. Mr. Boedker I’m going to need to take off your towel, is that okay?” 

Mikkel groaned but moved a hand up to take the mask off. “Mikkel, please.” 

The pen she had clicked had in fact been a penlight, oh fucking joy. 

“They tested me for a concussion three times so far,” he said, just on the manly side of whining. 

“I know, but it could take some time to set in, could you please look to the left?” 

He complied, but when the light hit his eyes it took skill not to shut them as tight as possible. He was trying his best not to come off as a baby in this situation, though he knew well enough Oliver wouldn’t tell the team, he still had his pride. 

She clicked the light off and smiled at him. 

“Still good.” He could hear Oliver’s exhale from behind her. “I’m going to get you a stronger dose to put in your IV. Your blood work is looking good. But we are still anxious about your muscles due to your career. We have one of your trainers looking at the scans. We also have our Hematologist looking at your blood work, but that is more for precaution than anything else.” 

He had understood about every third word, trying his best to focus on the doctor’s face rather than the throbbing behind his eyes. Nevertheless he nodded, which was a pretty big mistake as a groan escaped his lips which warranted a glare from both his doctor and boyfriend. 

“I’ll be back in a moment,” the doctor said, opening the door and leaving without a chance for him to say a word. 

“You catch that?” Mikkel asked. 

“Catch what?” 

Mikkel replaced the towel on his face. “Anything she said, anything at all.” 

“Most of it. I don’t know what a Hematologist is, but the rest seemed easy.” 

“Hematologist focus on spleen disorders.” 

Oliver clucked his tongue. “That was over a year ago.” 

“It will always be in play. But as long as one of us knows what she said, I think we’re good.” 

He exhaled slowly, trying his best to completely relax on the least comfortable table/bed of his life. (When he was in juniors there was a mess up in room orders and he’d ended up sleeping on the floor, he thought back to that hard floor wistfully.) 

Not long after a nurse walked in, Mikkel looked over to see a long needle and could feel himself blanche. He’d thought with all the poking and prodding that had gone on during the spleen thing he’d gotten over this but the look of it was enough to make him want to vomit. He felt Oliver take his hand, a little thrill ran up his spine. They never did that in public, no matter what. Not even in front of the players that knew.

“No worries, Mr. Bodekarr,” the nurse said. (And lord how many ways could Americans mess with his name?) “This is going into your IV.” 

He relaxed. The guy could call him what he wanted, he was just as well okay with that if he didn’t have to have the needle in his body. Oliver moved and the nurse explained what he was doing as he was doing it. Mikkel resisted the urge to beg for silence, as he knew the guy was just doing his job and maybe under other circumstances it would be comforting but right then his head was about to pop off his shoulders. He didn’t need to know that he had to clear the line first, nor that he might taste pennies (he knew both of those things), but then a sweet release of morphine hit his system. 

The nurse stood and watched him. The cessation of the headache wasn’t immediate but within a minute it was enough that he felt like his head had lost two or three pounds of dead weight. Another minute and he felt light-headed but in a good way. He let out a laugh. 

“I see it’s working Mr. Bodekarr, good.” 

“Boo-ker. Mr. Boooooo ker.” Mikkel clarified, but was grinning at it. “This is Oliver. Oliver, say hi.” 

Oliver was holding a laugh back behind his fist, but put it down long enough to say. “Hi.” 

“The doctor should be back in a few minutes, she had to see someone else but she didn’t want to leave him in pain. He seems to be fine for now. Let me know if he needs anything else.” 

“Hey,” Mikkel jumped in. “I’m here you know. Wait, I am here. Right?” 

Oliver pet his hand, just below where his IV was. “Meeks, maybe just close your eyes for a bit.” 

The nurse walked out and Mikkel looked after him forlornly. “Why didn’t he talk to me about this?” 

“Probably because you look like you ate pot brownies,” Oliver teased. 

A thought struck him and Mikkel laughed again. Once he started it seemed that he couldn’t stop. He laughed even though he could still feel the pull of pained neck muscles, the slight pains at the side of his head. His laugh was laced with ‘ow’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘make it stop’. 

“Dude, what the hell?” Oliver put his hand on Mikkel’s chest and Mikkel tried his best to calm down. A long minute later he was just barely laughing at what was still pretty funny to me. “What was THAT funny?” 

Mikkel looked at the door and then at Oliver. “They think you’re my _partttttner_.” 

Oliver cocked his head at Mikkel. “I _am_ your partner, dumb ass. What is funny about that?” 

“But they think it,” Mikkel said, and then tried to come back to himself enough to use real words. “They _think_ it. Cause it’s true.” 

And he started to laugh again. 

“You are a complete loser and I need you to lay your head back and close your eyes,” Oliver gently put a hand to Mikkel’s forehead and pushed down. 

Mikkel let his head lay back and put his forearm over his eyes, that still had just that little bit of sting behind them. (Not that he minded.) “I might be a complete loser, but you have chosen to stay with me so what does that make you?” 

It was rhetorical, really, but Oliver let out a put upon sigh that obviously meant something along the lines of ‘unfortunate’. Mikkel exhaled slowly and then inhaled, finally able to enjoy the feeling rather than hate the fact that he was moving, breathing, or alive. It was peaceful. 

Oliver was still holding his hand, he noticed and he squeezed it slightly just because he could. He remembered thinking, while his car spun in a giant circle, that he while he was thankful that Oliver wasn’t with him he would have given anything to just have him there. It hadn’t made any more sense at the time, when he wasn’t dosed with morphine but the fact that Oliver was _there_ at that moment felt right. 

There was silence for a minute, followed by the familiar tapping of fingertip on glass and Mikkel looked to see that Oliver was typing furiously on his phone with his free hand. 

“If you are updating twitter I take back the partner business,” he chided. 

Oliver looked up at him with a roll of his eyes and shook his head. “You might find this somewhat shocking, Meeks, but the rest of the team is a little concerned with the state of your health.” 

Oh fuck, the team. 

“Oh fuck,” Mikkel groaned. 

Oliver practically dropped his phone as he went from annoyed to concerned in a split second. “What? Is it your eyes? The migraine?” 

“ _The game._ ” 

If looks could kill it was entirely good he was in a hospital as Oliver leveled a glare that would at least taken a limb or possibly burnt his skin. 

“The GAME?” Oliver gaped. “You are concerned about the GAME?” 

“It’s the Sharks,” Mikkel pointed out, his mouth elongating the s at the end. “That’s kind of a weird name. They are on ice. Wouldn’t sharks die on ice?” 

“Yes, and coyotes are known for their familiarity with frozen lakes. They will be fine, Mikkel,” Oliver twisted his phone back, never letting go of Mikkel’s hand and went back to typing. “The game. He’s concerned about the game.” 

He was going to go into all the reasons why he should be concerned about the game and standings and the fact that they were contending this season but there was a rap on the door and they both turned to see the doctor pop her head in. 

“How’s the patient?” 

“Envis som en åsna*,” Oliver muttered and then faked a smile. ”Better. Drugs have kicked in.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear,” she smiled, completely disregarding the obvious slur in a foreign language. “I’ve got good news. All of your tests have come back negative for anything scary. Your trainer says that he’s going to monitor you for the rest of the week and keep you on the injured list for a while. The hematologist gave the okay. Other than the pain we are comfortable with sending you home.”

“Injured reserve?” Mikkel sighed. Not again. Not _again_. 

Oliver pulled at the collar of the lovely gown he was given a little, showing where the bruising was starting to turn lovely shades of deep dark purple where the airbag had deployed and the seatbelt had hit. 

“ **Injured reserve** ,” Oliver said. 

“I’ll give your partner the information. Just know that the next few days it’s going to get worse before it gets better. If you start feeling dizzy or severe nausea come back to the ER or call your trainer immediately.” 

He gave a small nod, tilting his head back and only half bothering to listen to what she was saying. He was sore, exhausted and medicated to the gills but even morphine wasn’t taking the edge off of going on IR again. And in a year he was trying to play to prove himself. To stay here. To stay with Oliver. 

Oliver put a hand on his shoulder after a minute or so and he looked up to see that the nurse had come back into the room. The nurse took his IV out, putting a rather gaudy SpongeBob band aid on it. (He’d blushed and admitted he’d been pulled from peds for the day.) He left and that left Oliver and Mikkel in the room. 

“You need help getting dressed?” 

Mikkel couldn’t help the laugh. “Isn’t it usually the other way around?” 

“Let’s see if you can stand up, then we can talk about your poor attempts at getting in my pants.” 

“But Olie, I’m not even wearing pants,” Mikkel said almost suggestively, swinging his legs over the side of the table and getting a huge rush to his head. “Wooooah.” 

Oliver’s hand was behind his neck in a moment. “Okay. One step at a time.” 

Mikkel went with it, even though it was embarrassing. Oliver untied the two flimsy ties in the back of his gown, the ones meant to give him a small semblance of decency, the ones that failed. When he slipped them off Mikkel’s arms Oliver let out a noise akin to wounded dog. He guessed he should have prepared him a little more for what his chest looked like. He’d only gotten a glimpse of it earlier but yeah… it wasn’t pleasant. 

They had cut off his clothing in the car but he had thankfully packed loose clothes in his bag for pregame soccer warm ups. They slid on his pants first, and then very very very very gently slid his old ‘Kitchner Ranger’ shirt that was just a little too big for him. (When he’d gotten it he’d swam in it.) 

Oliver eyed his shoes suspiciously and then shook his head as if he was answering a question Mikkel had verbalized. “I’m getting a chair.” 

“I can walk out on my own,” Mikkel weakly protested, but as he went to put his feet down on the ground the pain in his side, even numbed by drugs, was intense enough to make him think twice. 

“Don’t worry Meeks, I’ll tell the guys you were the height of masculine when we see them tomorrow. You took no medicine and impressed the nurses with pull ups while we waited for tests,” Oliver deadpanned. “Now let me get the damn wheelchair.” 

He nodded. 

While Mikkel was alone with his thoughts he went over the day. The way everything started, how long ago it’d felt to leave the house. He looked at the clock. He’d only left the house six hours before but it might as well be an eternity. 

“Come on, time to go,” Oliver parked the wheelchair next to the bed and put his arms under Mikkel’s armpits to transfer him into the chair. “I already gave the valet the ticket, the car should be there when we get there.”

“A hospital has a VALET?” 

Oliver didn’t take the bait to yell about Americans and their lazy ways, instead he just shrugged. “Would you rather walk the half block to the parking lot?” 

Point taken. 

When they’d gotten into Oliver’s car (one that was entirely not made for people to get into while injured) and made their way towards their house something struck him. 

“ _They’ll do fine_?” 

Oliver, who was chewing on a thumbnail and focused on the road groaned. “I know you are an asset to the team and all but can we at least admit you wouldn’t do much if you can’t stand up.” 

“ _They_ , O. Not _we’ll_.” 

“You think I’m going to the game?” Oliver flicked a look of genuine hurt towards him. 

“They need you, they _need_ you. You can’t just be a healthy scratch, you’re the A. What did you even tell them?” 

Oliver sighed. “ _They_ don’t need me. **You do**. I said...I said it was a family emergency.” 

“Family emergency?” he said out loud, just to see how the words felt. “What’d they say?” 

“Mike pushed me out the door, Shane offered to drive.” 

Mikkel let that settle in for a moment, lulling his head back against the headrest. He let out a little laugh. 

“What?” 

“You liiiiike me, Oliver.” 

“Were the fear of concussion not there I would smack you right now.” 

Mikkel shook his head, regretting the action a little. “No you wouldn’t. Cause you like me.” 

Oliver slid a hand over the dash and took Mikkel’s finger to twine them together. “I love you, you ass.” 

“I love you, too.” Mikkel sighed, thankful to be going home.

**Author's Note:**

> This past week both my mom and myself were in accidents, separately. I basically have been processing the scariness. So I wrote this. Pieces were taken from both accidents and smushed together. 
> 
>  
> 
> * Envis som en åsna= Stubborn as a donkey


End file.
